


The Dimming of the Sky

by Sharpiefan



Category: Show the Colours (Roleplaying Game), The London Life (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Gen, Regency
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2016-12-15
Packaged: 2018-09-08 18:35:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8856403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sharpiefan/pseuds/Sharpiefan
Summary: Can two people you love be happy together?





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [latin_cat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/latin_cat/gifts).



> The reference to Colonel Audley is a more-or-less direct quote from a passage in _Regency Buck_ , quoted in _An Infamous Army_ , both by Georgette Heyer. This follows on from the events of the night before, as detailed in latin_cat's fic, [here](http://latin-cat.dreamwidth.org/335057.html).
> 
> This was initially written in 2011, before I joined LL, and has been edited to reflect now-established canon on that RPG. It may well diverge from LL canon as Emma is a character on that board and her marriage partner is as yet unknown - she is highly unlikely to actually remain unmarried by 1816 according to LL canon.
> 
> Disclaimer: All my own work. All characters with the exception of Elise and Padstowe are mine; Elise belongs to the esteemed Kristie of LL, and Padstowe belongs to the excellent latin_cat. This was originally written for a meme for Show the Colours and has been edited for posting here. The prompt was _Padstowe/Miss Vickery. Because I want it to happen._

**(Hampshire, June 1816)**

Colonel Vickery, late of the Sixtieth Rifles, woke with a groan at the light knifing its way between the curtains of his bed. He had been extraordinarily pleased at the arrival of his friend, Colonel Padstowe, who had been one of Wellington's staff officers at the final great battle the previous year. Vickery had been there as well, in a somewhat humbler capacity on General Picton's staff, one of only three officers of his regiment to have been there. So many men had fallen that day. So many friends lost. It had been quite a miracle that he had escaped with nothing more than a scar to the head where a bullet had creased him.

Someone was bustling around in his room, seemingly completely indifferent to the master's hungover state. From the indecent cheeriness, it could only be one man.

"Cotton, why don't you go jump in the lake?" he muttered, pulling the pillow over his head.

The bedcurtains were whipped back. "Too damn cold, sir, this time o' day," was the cheery response. "I suggest you have a cup of tea afore you dress an' go down to breakfast, sir. Your sister's askin' where you are, sir."

"Emma!" He threw the pillow aside and sat up, before collapsing back with a groan.

"Tea, sir," Cotton said, bringing over a tray and placing it down near the bed, before pouring a cup of tea. "Sorry it ain't in a nice cup, but I reckoned you'd rather have a proper mug like you was used to have in Spain," he added, offering Vickery the handle of a dented tin mug. Vickery groaned again and accepted the mug.

Vickery had barely blown the steam off the tea when Cotton enquired, "Did you still want the lawn rolled today, sir?”

He nearly slopped the tea all over the bedclothes. " _What_?!"

"Last night, sir. You said to tell Phelps to have the lawn rolled today. I was jus' makin' sure you still wanted him to."

"I never said any such thing!"

“Colonel Padstowe'd say diff'rent, sir." Cotton shrugged. “Mind, you _was_ pretty foxed last night, sir."

"Don't be impertinent," Vickery replied, although he was privately of the opinion that he would forgive Cotton a great deal because of the tea.

Cotton waited until Vickery had replaced the mug on the tray before adding, "Colonel Padstowe's down in the breakfast room too, sir."

"Colonel... Oh, _damn_."

 

~ ~ ~

When he came down to the breakfast room half an hour later, washed, dressed and shaved, and feeling very much more the thing, he was not surprised to see Colonel Padstowe in conversation with his sister. What he was surprised at, a little, was noticing the look on her face and the warmth in her eyes as she spoke to him. Somehow, he was not surprised to note that same fond look echoed on Padstowe's face. He had no idea what his mother was going to make of it all, and right now, he didn't care.

"John! Would you care for some coffee?" Emma asked, her hand automatically reaching for the coffee-pot.

"Thank you, I would," he said, grateful that Cotton had offered him some tea to help combat his hangover. He accepted the cup his sister held out, and helped himself to some buttered toast before turning to look out of the window.

"It looks like a fine day. Would you care to go riding?" he asked, and frowned as he realised how crass he must sound – Padstowe had lost a leg in that last great battle, and probably could not manage as he used to. Vickery had got so used to it that he no longer saw his friend's disability, but it was apt to show itself at times and could not be completely forgotten. At least Padstowe had lost his leg below the knee. If he knew anything about his old friend, he wouldn't let a wooden leg get in the way of going out for a ride.

Emma smiled up at him. "That sounds most delightful, John. I shall..." She trailed off, glancing at Padstowe. "That is, if the Colonel wishes to..."

"I should be delighted." He smiled at Emma, who returned the smile.

"I shall go and change, then," she said, standing up. Vickery nodded; he couldn't reply for a moment because of the toast he was eating. "There is no need to hurry," he said, once he had swallowed his mouthful. She chuckled and left the room, gently closing the door behind her.

"Jon, what...?" he began, putting the plate down and looking across at his old friend. "I mean, please do not mistake me, but you and Emma? Why?"

Padstowe poured himself another cup of coffee before answering. "For myself, it is easy to see why. But I do not know why she would accept me, not with a pin like mine." He gave a self-deprecating shrug. "I am fond of her, John – it would be hard not to be fond of her. But I fear that she does not see me as anything more than another brother."

"Do not..." Vickery broke off, and tried again. "That is, I do not want either of you to be hurt."

Padstowe gave a grim chuckle. "There is not much likelihood of that, John. She is a most eligible young woman. I only wonder that she has not been married for these past few years. Captain Blackwood's brother..."

"He was a most unsuitable match, as you know – Blackwood told me himself that he would likely leave her with a broken heart if an attachment were to form between them. As it is, he has married elsewhere – Miss Price, I believe – and there can be no danger from him now."

"It is a shame that he was killed during the war, though," Padstowe mused. "Albuera, wasn't it?"

"Salamanca." Vickery sighed. "I do not see why you should not marry her yourself, Jon. You have prospects, and an income of your own, after all."

"Precious few prospects, and an income by no means large enough to keep her as she is used to," the other replied.

The room was silent for a moment, and then Vickery turned from his contemplation of the lawn outside the window. "You do not know Emma so well, I think. She has always preferred the quietness of the country, and the select friendship of a few. She has been in Society – we used to go to Town every Season, on my mother's insistence – but Emma, like my father, much prefers the country."

The room fell silent again, and each man finished his breakfast without again breaking the silence.

The door opened again and Emma Vickery came back in. She had changed from her cotton day-dress into a riding habit of dark green, very suitable for the unseasonably cool weather. The colour made both men smile; it was very nearly the colour of the uniform that Vickery had worn for the last ten years of his Service life. He still favoured the colour over the more popular dark blues and wine-reds other men preferred.

"William is bringing the horses round," she said, addressing Vickery, who nodded.

"Will you ride Shilling, or shall I?" he asked his sister. "Of course, Colonel Padstowe shall ride his own horse, so the decision must be who shall ride Shilling, and who shall take Ramillies?"

"I thought Ramillies had been taken?" Emma replied teasingly, and Vickery chuckled. "You know I mean the horse and not the town. Although I believe it was a battle and not a siege?"

"You are the soldier, and so I shall bow to your greater knowledge of such things, of course." She curtsied instead, making Padstowe grin.

He stepped forward and offered her his arm. "As Colonel Vickery is a soldier, perhaps he might be content with re-taking Ramillies, and allow you to ride Shilling? For I know that he has already taken the shilling once, and it would be most unkind of you to require him to take it a second time."

Vickery was left shaking his head, smiling at Padstowe's words as he followed them down to the front porch.

 

~ ~ ~

They rode for a while across the park, with Vickery feeling more and more like a chaperon, which wasn't something he wanted. He was pretty sure that his mother would have refused to allow Emma to visit him if she had known that Colonel Padstowe was going to be here too. Admittedly, his mother didn't know Colonel Padstowe, but he wasn't sure if that made things better or worse. He was sure that if she had known of Colonel Padstowe's presence, she would have insisted on accompanying Emma on her visit.

That made him very glad that she had _not_ known. His mother was rather formidable at the best of times.

He had dropped back to allow Padstowe and Emma to ride ahead. They looked very comfortable with each other – Emma was laughing at something Padstowe had said. He sighed. He knew his mother had high hopes for Emma, and had returned from the war to find that she had not married, which had surprised him. She was very eligible, and even he had to admit that she was very pretty into the bargain. Padstowe had once confided to him that Colonel Audley, one of the Duke's ADCs, had told him that he had unwittingly insulted his, Audley's, future sister-in-law by coming into the room and saying "Where is the heiress? Does she squint like a bag of nails? Is she incredibly ugly – they always are?" or words to that effect.

Emma was twenty-six now. She must have had several offers of marriage, although Vickery had heard nothing of them. It was not as though she had no fortune, either; she had something like thirty thousand pounds, he thought vaguely. If Padstowe did not offer, he would be a fool – and if Emma did not accept, she would be a fool. Though, perhaps, less of one.

He was not sure what Padstowe was worth, but he was thirty-eight years old, making him twelve years older than Emma. That was not an insurmountable problem, of course. What might be harder for Emma was that Padstowe had lost his leg. He was riding now because it had been taken off below the knee, allowing him still to use his knee to control the horse. He could afford a proper wooden leg, rather than a peg, which would otherwise not fit a normal stirrup, although he would probably come up with some way of altering a stirrup to take a peg.

It was that ingenuity and irrepressible nature that had endeared him to Vickery in the first place. He smiled as he remembered how Padstowe had learned to mount a horse one-handed, when he had his arm in a sling. The only outward sign of Padstowe's disability was a limp and a dependency on a walking-stick if he was out walking long distances. He considered himself lucky that every fashionable man about town carried a stick, and therefore he did not look out of place.

Of course, there were several soldiers who had returned from the war with injuries far more disfiguring than the loss of a leg, which could be somewhat hidden by a pair of trousers. Vickery had acquired a scar to the face, courtesy of a French musket ball at Waterloo. He considered himself extremely fortunate that it was not disfiguring – in fact, it only showed when he smiled and it was when he was smiling that he was least likely to be self-conscious. Emma had informed him that it made him look dashing, about which claim he was extremely dubious. Colonel Sharpe's scar just made him look forbidding, but apparently women liked that sort of thing. Strange.

His mother wouldn't approve, of course. His mother seemed to approve of very few things.

But then, Padstowe had inherited his family home, which was in Kent. Vickery couldn't see his mother making the journey to visit very often... although Kent was nearer London than Hampshire was, so she would probably visit either before or after the Season.

Still, he could see nothing that would prevent such a union, or keep it from being a happy one. They did seem suited for each other in nearly all respects, that Vickery could see.

He roused himself in some anxiety when he saw that they had ridden towards Fallbrooke House, and were even now within sight of the house. He urged his horse into a trot to catch Padstowe and Emma up.

"Emma, is my brother at home?" he asked, reining in beside his sister, and indicating their whereabouts.

"I... Oh. I believe he is. As is my mother." The resignation in Emma's tone was obvious to Vickery, who felt the same misgiving. He looked wryly at Padstowe.

"If things stand between you and my sister as I believe they do, you will have to meet my mother and brother."

Padstowe nodded. "I believe I am up to the challenge." He smiled at Emma. "After all, one does not serve on the Duke of Wellington's staff without learning how to be tactful." And deal with difficult personalities, of course... but it would not be politic to say that.

They approached the house in a comfortable silence, and Vickery nodded to the footman who opened the door. "Is my brother at home, James?"

"No, sir, but Her Ladyship is, and the Dowager Viscountess."

It would be rude to have come all this way and not come in, much as Vickery would like to return to his own house without seeing his mother.

It turned out not to be his decision, however. Emma tugged her gloves off decisively. "Would you please announce us, James? The Colonel and myself, you know, of course."

Padstowe offered a card, which the footman took.

"Very good, madam. Would you wait in the library?"

She nodded and stepped past him, opening the door to the library.

"It is very strange to be a visitor in one's own home," she remarked, smoothing her skirts.

"You were the one who insisted on coming in, Emma," Vickery pointed out dryly, raising an eyebrow.

She laughed. "You never lost the trick of that, did you, John?"

"Why should I? It came in very handy on more than one occasion in Spain, you know – there never were such a set of men as my Company. I am sure they were deliberately provoking. It seemed that if I did not specifically forbid something, they would be found doing precisely that thing. And when I stopped them doing that, they would find something else equally provoking. I am sure Colonel Padstowe would agree."

Padstowe laughingly held up his hands. "Colonel Vickery, I forswore all regimental duties after Vimeiro, as you know very well. You have far more experience of the men in the ranks than I do."

Any further comment was forestalled at this point by the entrance of the footman.

"Their Ladyships will see you in the drawing room," he said, looking across at Vickery. "If you will follow me?"

 

~ ~ ~

The drawing room was tastefully decorated in a modern style, light, airy and elegant. The furniture was also modern. Vickery was not sure whose had been the guiding hand; he was not aware that the present Viscountess had a forceful enough personality to stand up to his mother. But, he reflected, very few people did.

Of course it could be that, since the death of his father, his mother had been prepared to give way on certain things, such as the decoration of the drawing room. No doubt the library, estate steward's room and gunroom were still as dark as ever; Robert followed their father in matters of taste.

He bowed to his mother and sister-in-law, and noticed the imperiously questioning look his mother sent Colonel Padstowe.

"Madam, may I present my particular friend, Colonel Padstowe?"

Padstowe bowed as Vickery completed the introduction. "Colonel, may I present my mother, the Dowager Viscountess Saltash, and my sister-in-law, the present Viscountess Saltash?"

Padstowe made a leg as elegant as his wooden leg would allow to a lady with a commanding air, whose hair had gone grey, but who looked no less sharp despite her age. He would have to ask Vickery how old she was; he guessed somewhere in her sixties. She was wearing mourning – not deep mourning, but half-mourning: her dress was grey and if in cut it was not something from the previous age, neither was it the very height of fashion, and she wore a black lace cap on her grey hair. She returned his bow with a nod.

Her daughter-in-law smiled brightly at him, and it seemed as if the sun had come out. He could not recall that he had ever seen anybody with hair so blond as to appear very nearly white.

"I see that you are fond of my daughter," the Dowager said, glancing over to where Emma had fallen into conversation with the young Viscountess.

Padstowe was taken aback and tried to think how she could know that.

She smiled. "It is not so difficult. One has only to see how you look at her to see that. She is the daughter of a Viscount, as you must know, and she cannot be expected to marry below her station in life."

"My lady, you need not fear on that score. I am the Lord of the Manor of Cowden in Kent, since my father's death some four years ago. I can assure you that my family home is no mean cottage somewhere."

Vickery noticed a look of surprise cross his mother's face as Padstowe said that, but almost immediately she nodded and said, "Kent... I suppose she may go up to Town from Kent as easily as from anywhere. Where is Cowden, precisely?"

"It is no more than ten miles – not so much, indeed – from Edenbridge, and twenty miles or so from Tunbridge Wells."

Vickery interjected at this point. "I have visited, Mutti, and can assure you that Emma would like it very much. The countryside is very pretty in those parts." How often his mother had used the word 'pretty' in her letters to him. It was about time he got to return the favour. The house was smaller than Fallbrooke House, as was to be expected, but it was not some poky, inconvenient out-of-the-way place. He thought that Emma could be very happy there, if she were allowed to be.

"Tunbridge Wells... I suppose they may hold assemblies there as well as anywhere," she mused.

"Indeed, madam. Tunbridge Wells has some very fine assemblies. And the waters are well known for their restorative properties."

Although of course they would not restore Padstowe's leg. He had felt its loss most keenly, Vickery recalled, though he had grown used to its absence by now, if not quite reconciled to it.

"How long have you known my son?" the Dowager Viscountess asked, changing tack rather abruptly.

"Since the year Nine, madam. We met not long before the Duke of Wellington returned to Portugal."

"So long?" she said, almost to herself.

"We had... rather a similar line of work, Mother," Vickery put in. It had not been the same, of course, but with the 60th's independence and Padstowe's work as an exploring officer, it would be very strange if they had not come across each other at least once.

He glanced over towards the window, where Emma was sitting in quiet conversation with his sister-in-law. She seemed a quiet, shy girl. No wonder his mother still ruled the roost here.

His mother saw the glance and looked frankly at Padstowe. "And does my daughter accept your suit?"

"I would not go against your wishes, Madam, and have therefore not pressed her upon that point, although I have hopes that it would not be entirely objectionable to her."

Emma coughed at this point, and coloured furiously, turning to look out of the window as the younger Lady Saltash patted her hand.

Vickery sighed and crossed to the two young ladies. "Would you show me around the garden, Emma? It has been a while since I saw it and I remember it being rather lovely at this time of the year."

His sister got to her feet rather quickly. "With your permission, Mutti?" she said, looking over to her mother, and deliberately not looking at Padstowe.

"Yes, very well," was the reply and the three of them left the room.

Elise squeezed Emma's arm with a pleased smile. "I need to go and speak to Cook, if you will excuse me. Shall you be staying to dinner?"

"No, no, I don't think so. Thank you."

"Would you object very much to marrying a one-legged retired Colonel?" Vickery enquired as they descended the stairs to the hall and Elise left them to head to the kitchen.

"John!" Emma sounded shocked, but Vickery looked at her unrepentantly. "I am serious, Emma. Because if you would, it is better that he knows now."

"I am not one to toy with any man's feelings, John." She sighed. "I have had offers from all sorts of men, John – including Lord Chalfont's odious younger son. And Mister Blackwood. I was of a mind to accept him when I received your letter, and I know that he has led Mrs Blackwood – Miss Letitia Price as was – a merry dance. I feel quite sorry for her."

"Despite her interminable simpering at you?" Vickery enquired, one eyebrow raised.

She slapped his arm lightly before slipping her hand into the crook of his elbow. "How _could_ you! Yes, indeed. Nobody should be led on so."

There was a pause in their conversation as the footman opened the door for them.

"Why did you not accept any of the offers you had?" he asked as they took the gravelled path that led around the side of the house to the garden.

"You will think me so silly. I did not – could not! - love any of them." She gave a small sigh. "Maybe it is foolish of me, but I do not think I could be happy if I married a man I did not love. Elise - Lady Saltash - loves Robert."

"I admire him... I greatly esteem him. But I do not love him," Vickery murmured, and Emma looked at him in astonishment.

"I did not know you had read _Sense and Sensibility_." She bent to smell a half-open rose. "Maybe it is foolish, to want one's life to run as does a novel."

Vickery watched her, a fond expression on his face. "I do not think so, although a novel must end at the wedding and of course life runs on after that."

They walked on in silence for a while longer, until a footman came out, and bowed. "The Dowager Viscountess requests your presence in the drawing room, Madam," he said to Emma, who became immediately flustered.

"I do not... I..."

"My sister will be there presently," Vickery interjected, and took both of her hands in his. "Emma, my dear, you must do as your heart dictates. I do not want either of you to be unhappy, but I cannot tell you what your answer should be."

"You seem very sure of yourself, John," she managed, her voice a little strangled.

He smiled. "I should be. Colonel Padstowe is very fond of you."

"As fond as a brother is of his sister, perhaps?" she said, arching one delicate eyebrow in her turn

"I think there is somewhat more to it than that," Vickery replied dryly as they entered the hallway again.

The footman led them back up to the drawing room. Vickery was somehow not surprised to see his mother come out and dismiss the footman before ushering Emma in, deliberately leaving the door ajar. Vickery could not find it in himself to upbraid her, even mentally, and nor did he reach out to close the door.

His sister-in-law must still be consulting with Cook, for the room only contained Emma and Colonel Padstowe. He caught a glimpse of the Colonel going down to one knee, and Emma flushing pink and putting both hands to her mouth.

"Will you do me the very great honour of marrying me?" Padstowe asked, gently reaching for one hand, and Emma blinked several times before nodding, her other hand still pressed to her mouth.

"And it is usually the man who ends up marrying down," the Dowager Viscountess remarked tartly from beside her son, although rather quieter than usual. "I do hope they may be happy together."

"Oh, I think they will, Mutti," Vickery replied, and briefly closed his eyes at the speculative expression that crossed her face as she turned to look at him.

 

~ ~ ~

The three of them rode back to Ashden Court that evening, after dinner. Padstowe and Emma had been given Robert's consent to the match, and it had been decided that Emma should conclude her visit, rather than have one of Vickery's maids pack up her things to be sent back to Fallbrooke House. The Dowager Viscountess had only been persuaded to allow it because the two houses were so close and it was not as if Emma was unchaperoned - Elise's argument had, as ever, been both gentle and persuasive. She would probably have been horrified if she had known that Vickery had no intention of chaperoning the pair, but what she didn't know, she couldn't get upset about.

The colours of the sunset seemed a perfect conclusion to the events of the day and as the lighted windows of Ashden Court came into sight, the first stars were appearing in the dimming sky.


End file.
